


The Daisy Graveyeard

by softboystanley



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Angst, M/M, alright kiddos strap in for some heavy fuckin angst, also stan and georgie is a cute fuckin duo i need more of, just maybe dont think about the canon while you read this, poor bby stan is sad, so the whole pennywise things happened but they all forgot cause??, sorry - Freeform, stenbrough is what i need in my life, the death is georgie's, theyre like 20 in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:10:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softboystanley/pseuds/softboystanley
Summary: It had become routine for Bill to walk to Georgie’s grave on Saturday morning. He would wake up, get dressed and walk to the graveyard. Along the way there was a small house. On the front lawn, leading up to the door there was a row of daisies. They glistened in the morning sun, and each time Bill walked by he would pick a single flower to take with him. And this morning was no exception.





	The Daisy Graveyeard

**Author's Note:**

> guess whos back with more angst and uh the canon got thrown out the window cause technically if bill had stayed in derry all those years he would have remembered but uh fuck that. this is gonna be reaaaaaaaaaaallly sad. so uh grab yo tissues

It had become routine for Bill to walk to Georgie’s grave on Saturday morning. He would wake up, get dressed and walk to the graveyard. Along the way there was a small house. On the front lawn, leading up to the door there was a row of daisies. They glistened in the morning sun, and each time Bill walked by he would pick a single flower to take with him. And this morning was no exception. 

  


He walked by and stopped at the house, kneeling down to pick a flower. He always felt a little bad, stealing someone’s flowers, but he had never seen anyone inside the house so he assumed it was an older person who never really noticed. Bill plucked the flower from the ground and continued walking. 

  


“Hey!” He heard a door slam distantly. He whirled around and was greeted by a boy no older than he was. The boy had curly golden hair that fell perfectly around his face. His clothes were in pristine condition, not a single wrinkle was present. 

  


“Oh.” The boy stopped short when he saw Bill.”So you’re the one who’s been stealing my flowers?” 

  


Bill’s face went bright red. The flowers he had been stealing for his little brother’s grave were  from a cute boys garden. “I..uh..I’m really sorry. I didn’t know they meant so much to you.” 

  


“It’s okay, I guess. What would be their purpose if they sat on my lawn all their lives? And hopefully you’re making use of them, not just stealing my flowers for the chaos of it.” The boy smiled. 

  


Bill didn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to tell this stranger that he was taking his flowers for Georgie’s grave?  _ To keep him happy in the afterlife _ . Bill got a little choked up but pushed it down, as not to embarrass himself in front of the cute boy. He decided instead upon an introduction. “Bill Denbrough.” 

  


“Stan Uris.”  _ Stan. _

  


“The name sounds familiar. Did we have a few classes together?” 

  


“Probably not. My parents moved me out of Derry when I was 14 so I could attend a nice school down in Boston. I moved back into our old house to attend University of Maine.” 

  


“Oh.” Stan seemed so familiar like they had known each other since birth. 

  


“What  _ are  _ you going to do with my flower?” Stan inquired. 

  


“Huh? Oh, the flowers. They’re..uh.. for a friend I guess.” Bill stuttered. 

  


“Mind if I join you? I need to get out of the house anyway.” 

  


“Not at all.” Truth be told, Bill was pleased to have some company on his walk. It was a nice change from his thoughts and Stan was pretty cute. 

  


The walk was mostly in silence for neither of them had anything to talk about. Whilst Stan spent his time looking at the ground or off into the woods, Bill was looking at Stan. Bill knew that it was creepy to study someone’s face but there was something about Stan. Maybe it was his perfectly curled hair, golden looking in the early fall sun. Or maybe his beautiful brown eyes. Or maybe every inch of his face. Even the scars that lined his face. They, in particular, peaked Bill’s interest. Each one was perfectly in line but also jagged and chaotic. 

  


“How did you get the scars?” Bill hoped he wasn’t invading Stan’s privacy. They  _ had  _ only just met. 

  


“I don’t really know. Everyone asks me about them but I guess they’ve always been there. I even asked my parents and they didn’t know. It’s strange.” 

  


Just as Bill was going to reply, they reached the fork in the road where the cemetery was. Bill stopped in his tracks, while Stan continued on. It was time to tell him. 

  


“We’re going to the graveyard.” 

  


Stan turned and Bill saw his eyes change. They softened upon the realization. 

  


“Oh.” 

  


“He was my little brother, Georgie.” Bill explained as they turned into the graveyard. “He was only seven.” 

  


“Jesus. I’m so sorry.” 

  


Bill lead Stan through the maze of headstones until they came upon the right one. 

  


_ Georgie Denbrough _

_  1981 - 1988  _

  


Bill swallowed hard as he placed the daisies at the foot of the stone. 

  


“Hi Georgie.” Bill knelt by the grave. “I brought someone with me this time. His name is Stan.” 

  


The memories suddenly flashed in Bill’s mind. Stan and Bill were swinging with Georgie, except they were all much younger. Stan’s scars weren’t present. Little bits and pieces came flowing back. Stan and Bill playing outside. Stan and Bill meeting a couple of new kids, a small boy, _ Eddie _ , and his taller companion who wore thick framed glasses,  _ Richie _ . Stan and Bill and the new boys meeting some other new kids. A girl with fiery red hair,  _ Bev _ . A much taller, stronger boy,  _ Mike _ , who Bill had seen around the library occasionally. And a boy who carried a walkman and postcard, _ Ben _ .  _ Welcome to the Losers Club.  _ The Losers Club, their little team of misfits lead by Bill himself. 

  


More memories came back with the happy ones. Bill’s mother telling him of Georgie’s death. And a terrifying clown. It was at least six feet tall. Bill remembered It tormenting he and his Losers Club all summer long. It had broken Eddie’s arm.  _ It had killed Georgie.  _

  


_ ‘You left me!’  _ A voice screamed over and over in Bill’s mind. ‘ _ You made me go into Neibolt! You’re not my friends!’  _ Another voice screamed back ‘ _ Stanley No!’  _ Stanley. Stanley Uris. The scars, they made sense. The Woman he had seen. Bill felt nauseous recalling the horrible thought. Stan, lying face-up on the ground, with the Woman standing over him, eating his face. Trying to put him in the deadlights, as they had called it. Bill snapped back to the present. 

  


“Stan!” Bill cried before hugging Stan tightly. “I’m sorry I made you go into the house. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry I let It get you. It’s all my fault.” 

  


“Excuse me?” 

  


“The house on Neibolt. The clown. Don’t you remember?” 

  


“The clown.” Stan’s eyes widened. Bill saw the memories wash over him. 

  


“I’m sorry I made you go into the house. I’m sorry I let It get you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend.” 

  


“Bill, it’s not your fault. You were right. We couldn’t defeat It without all of us.”

  


“No, Stan. I was a horrible friend. I wasn’t paying attention to how It affected you. I was selfish and stupid and I’m sorry.”  Bill felt tears sting at his eyes. 

  
  


“Bill…” Stan sighed. “The real reason I left Derry was because I was scared. I couldn't sleep at night, I couldn’t go into my dad’s office because I would have to see that painting. I couldn’t do it. I was paranoid and anxious and I never felt happy. And I couldn’t talk to any of you. Richie and Eddie broke off and became their own group until Eddie left. Mike went back to the farm. Ben jumped back into school work and we rarely spoke. Bev went to live with her aunt. And you. Bill, I tried to talk to you but it was almost as if you had already forgot. I would tell you about my anxieties and you would brush me off. I had to leave.” 

Bill swallowed hard. He remembered Stan coming up to him and begging him for help but Bill did nothing. “Stan I-” 

  


“I was weak Bill. I was the weak link. You all were strong and I was weak. I couldn’t even go into the house. I was a fucking wimp. You guys needed me and I faile-” 

  


Stan was cut off by Bill, who pressed his lips into Stan’s. They pulled away. 

  


“Something else I forgot was how I felt about you.” Bill explained. “I’d loved you for a while Stan. I didn’t know how to explain my feelings cause I was just a naive kid but now I know.” 

  


“I… I… I loved you too Bill. It shattered my heart when you forgot. You became a different person. Instead of our kind, strong leader you were.. a stereotypical jock who only cared about football and all that shit.” 

  
  


They both stood in silence. Bill looked back on his high school life. He remembered gaining popularity after joining the football team. He would occasionally have a class with Stan until Stan just disappeared, never to enter Bill’s thoughts again. Until this moment, where Stan is popping up in the background of every memory. Cheering him on at a football game, nodding at him in the hallway. And then Bill stopped seeing Stan all together. He never noticed but something always felt slightly off. 

  


“I remember Georgie now.” Stan said, in an effort to make conversation. “He was a really great kid, Bill.” 

  


“He used to call you Mr. Stan. He would run up and ask me if Mr. Stan was coming over to play. He loved you, Stan.” Bill smiled.

  


“I remember one time, Georgie came up to me, holding a paper flower. He told me that in school he was told to make a flower for his hero. Other kids did their parents or Superman, but Georgie.. he did the nice kid across the street who always let him play in his backyard. ‘Mr. Stan, you’re my hero’ he said and presented me with the flower. I kept it on my desk, in a vase. It was there for so long I had forgotten who had given it to me.” 

  


Stan and Bill began to walk back. Bill intertwined his hand with Stan’s. 

  


The next Saturday and every Saturday after that became another routine. Bill would wake up, get dressed and walk to the graveyard. Along the way there was a small house. Bill would stop at the house and pluck a single flower from the ground. But this time he wasn't alone. Every week, Stan would come with Bill, and hold his hand all the way to the graveyard where they would sit and talk about the golden days of their Loser’s Club. 

**Author's Note:**

> also for anyone whos a fan of my reddie/byler fic Electricty, im working on it. It gonne be out Sunday probably. 
> 
> feedback is always appreaciated!


End file.
